


Lost

by Arkanna



Category: Legacy of Kain
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 10:20:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11461581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkanna/pseuds/Arkanna
Summary: Kain searches for his wayward fledgling.





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Legacy of Kain or any of its characters.

Kain flitted across the rooftops with ease. It was a small village, he did not know its name, he did not care. What the humans chose to call this place did not matter in the least. All he worried about was Raziel and where he had wandered.

The place was ancient. Kain knew by the sturdy stone structures and hard slate roofs, that did not protest his swift passing, that it had been built in another time when construction was not hurried and craftsmen were encouraged to place the quality of their work and their skills above the demand for quick results. Moss and lichens made the tiles slippery, but his heavy taloned feet easily found purchase. He paused by an ornate chimney, pale smoke curling into the chill predawn air.

He watched and listened but heard no cry of alarm nor found any sign of his wayward fledgling. At least Raziel seemed to be staying out of trouble for the moment.

His gaze flicked to the chimney he was leaning against and paused. Heavy ornamentation encircled the stones and a central block on each side held a small bronze medallion. Pitted and weathered with age, the markings were difficult to read, but Kain gave a sudden start when he realized that the script was one the Ancients used. A blessing, a magical ward against evil cast in the metal long ago. Some of the magic yet lingered. It had a familiar feel.

He glanced around at the low mountains rising into the heavens. It almost seemed a place removed from time. A deep sense of foreboding settled over his mind, gazing up into the sky, clouds drifting, reflected in the distant Lake of Lost Souls.

Kain shook the odd thoughts from his mind with a snarl. It was getting brighter and Raziel was nowhere in sight.

The last roof he alighted upon was low and flat. It covered a walkway between two of the large stone houses and served as a gate connecting the village proper and a small enclosed sanctuary at the base of the cliff.

The house on the left seemed abandoned and, sitting in the shadow of its chimney, Kain spied his lost fledgling.

“There you are!” Kain growled somewhat angrily. “What were you think . . .”

Raziel cut him off by pointing towards the cliff.

Kain bristled but glanced in the direction his fledgling had indicated.

The village was nestled against the sheer cliffs. Afforded a bit of protection from wind and weather by the mountain that rose to the north and sloped its arms easily around the western edge, it had thrived and survived countless ages. Confronted by the sudden revelation before him, Kain wondered just how long the tiny hamlet had existed.

A life-sized statue stood in a niche carefully chiseled from the stone. Water dripped from above, cascading over the figure and pooling in a large basin at its feet. Its form easily discernible though some of its more delicate features lost to the long wear of time and a light covering of algae and moss.

“What is it?” Raziel asked at Kain's sharp intake of breath.

“An Ancient,” Kain replied at length, taking in the mountain and the village in regard to the Lake once more. Reassessing its age in his own mind.

“They had wings?”

“Indeed,” Kain rumbled suddenly noticing movement in the path below.

An elderly woman slowly made her way towards the statue. She stood a while, then leaned forward and placed a small bowl on the edge of the pool. Something rippled darkly in the faint light, but though her hands shook, not a single drop was spilt. She gazed upwards a moment then bowed her head and started back along the path and out of sight.

Curious, Kain made to leap to the ground.

“Blood,” Raziel spoke, stopping him.

He turned and gave his fledgling a puzzled look.

“It's blood. I've been here since moonrise. Three or four people brought the same small bowls of blood and offered them to the statue.” There was a very long, thoughtful pause, “Why?”

Kain had no answer to that question. He had never witnessed such reverence nor seen such a carefully maintained sculpture, particularly of the Ancients, in all his long years.

“Perhaps they worship it,” Raziel offered when Kain did not answer.

The thought felt wrong, somehow, as Kain studied the carving. The wings were held high above the head, partially extended and spread as if in protection. The hands seemed to beckon gently and it suddenly made sense why the magic lingering in this place felt so familiar.

“It is time to go,” Kain said, his gaze resting on the statue a moment, remembering the last time he had seen Janos.

Raziel contemplated the sculpture as he slowly rose to stand beside his sire. He had heard of the Ancients but never before seen their likeness.

“What happened to them?” It was an innocent question, one for which Raziel would find his own answer in due time.

A thin fog had risen, cloaking the village in a dreaming peacefulness. From the rooftops, it almost seemed to drift in the clouds, bringing forth remembrance of things past. Kain glanced at Raziel, a lonely figure standing apart, framed against the mist like time-worn memories.

He gave a pained sigh and pulled his fledgling away from the statue and the slowly dawning light.

“War—foolishness,” Kain said simply, “the last vanished centuries ago.”


End file.
